


Six Feet Deep

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Angst, Broody Emo Nick, Cannon-ish. (hopefully!), Comfort Sex, Dark Nick, Depression, Emptiness, Eye for an Eye, F/M, Heartbreak, Longing, Lonliness, Love, Lust, Passion, Payback, Poetic Justice, Revenge, Seduction, Sex, Starting Over, True Love, vengence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-09-22 16:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen
Summary: This story begins where S2 E13 ends.Nick is devestated by June’s absence.Until he finds her again.And they wreak riteous vengeance of Fred.This is my new username! Dystopian_dramaqueen. (Formerly crollah).





	1. Barricade

 

Waterford sprints up the stairs. Thundering toward the nursery.

 

Nick and Rita lock eyes. 

 

_He knows._

 

Nick nods and takes the stairs two at a time. Rounds the corner to June’s room, hand on his gun.

 

Waterford’s cornered. Unarmed. Nick smiles inwardly. June and Holly need more time. He can make that happen. No matter how this ends, he has nothing to lose.

 

**“Nick! Get downstairs. Pull together a search team.**

 

**“We need to stay inside, Sir.”**

 

 **“** **MY CHILD** **is missing!!!!”**

 

Fred storms down the hallway, planning his first phone calls, orders on where to search and who to torture. Anything to find his child's kidnapper. 

 

His frantic momentum is reversed in a split second. The breath knocked from his body. He looks down in bewilderment at Nick's hand on his chest. Not understanding this turn of events, this barrier. Nick adjusts his gun, eyes on Fred’s.

 

**“It’s too dangerous out there. We’ll stay here.”**

 

Fred raises his eyes. His initial confusion quickly replaced by petulant rage. He hasn’t been opposed since he founded Gilead. He hisses out his next words between clenched teeth.

 

**“Step aside.”**

 

**“You’re too important, Commander Waterford. This is for your protection.”**

 

Fred laughs. Eyes gleaming with hate.

 

**“Who the fuck do you think you are?  Under whose authority….”**

 

**“The Eyes of God.”**

 

The words hit Fred harder than the blow to the chest. He steps backward, mind reeling. He searches Nick’s face but finds no lie.  

 

**“Bullshit.”**

 

**“It’s true.”**

 

Waterford shakes his head. If it’s true- if Nick is an Eye, this encounter is over. Eyes are untouchable. Above the law. He glances again at the gun. Waterford promises himself- if Nick is lying, if this is some kind of stunt- he’ll pull him limb from limb himself. Make it slow and painful. His mind races, scrambling to find a focal point, a fact to use as a compass. His first memory of Nick. Where he met him. Pryce’s driver in the early days.

 

**“Who do you report to?”**

 

**“Before the bombing, Commander Pryce. He recruited me. Sons of Jacob in Flint, Michigan. Kept me on ever since. I was with him when he took Boston.”**

 

Fred nods. Pryce was from Michigan. He often talked about the social collapse and depravity there. The wealth of intelligent, disillusioned, angry young men left in the wake of the steel and auto industry collapse. How these men should be harnessed and turned toward the cause.

 

**“Pryce asked me to watch out for you. To protect you at all costs. He knew how important you are to Gilead.”**

 

Fred pauses- pleased by the ego stroking.

 

**“If I wanted to turn you in I could have done it long ago. But I never did. I’m here to protect you. You know that.”**

 

Fred’s mind flies to his first handmaid’s death. Offred’s first escape. Eden’s escape. The disaster at Commander McKenzie’s summer home. It’s true. Nick was questioned by the Eyes each time- and he never said a word. Fred has no time to think. And it fits. It makes sense. He nods.

 

**“What’s going on out there?”**

 

**“Terrorist attack. That’s all we know right now.”**

 

**“Where’s Nichole?”**

 

**“I don’t know. But we’ll get her back. I want her home safe as much as you do.”**

 

They nod. Fred is even more pleased by Nick’s submissive, face saving language about his paternity. Fred feels himself relax. He has no choice.

 

Nick senses the shift in Waterford’s energy. Pats him once firmly, reassuringly on the shoulder.

 

**“I’ll handle it- find out what I can. Ok?”**

 

**“Ok.”**

 

**“The house is secure, you should get some rest, Sir.”**

 

Fred nods. Adrenaline fading. Exhausted. Relieved. He pauses and looks at Nick.

 

**“Thank you. God bless you for all that you’ve done.”**

 

Nick nods.

 

**“Lock your door sir.”**

 


	2. Darkness.

Nick climbs the metal stairs to his apartment.

Exhausted.

 

He pauses at his door.

Some force repels him.

Like the wrong side of a magnet.

 

He sits on the top step, lights the day’s last cigarette.

Nerves calmed by the familiar burn in his lungs.

His pulse responds to the nicotine.

He drags a hand through his hair.

 

After a pause he looks across at the empty window facing his apartment.

He could always see ahead. Forward. To this moment. When he got her out.

He lived for that goal.

They both did.

But what happens now?

He finishes his cigarette.

No answers come.

 

He undresses, washes his face. Brushes his teeth.

He lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Certain that sleep will not come tonight.

 

He hears voices. Clear as day. Eden’s is the loudest. The closest.

Asking him what color curtain he wanted. Asking if he wanted to know her secret recipe. Telling him she would miss him as she handed him fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. Begging his forgiveness for kissing Issac. Telling him they would keep trying for a child. That he’d be a good father. Sobbing. Praying on the high dive platform.

 

He sits up.

Nauseated.

 

Pulls his coat on. Heads back to the steps. Smokes another.

Eyes again wandering to June’s window. Still empty. Black.

No light from the nursery window either.

No music from the mobile drifting into the evening air.

No maternal silhouettes rocking, bouncing his baby girl.

 

Nothing.

Just darkness.

 


	3. Jezebel's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your daily dose of Nick Blaine, simmered in angst, with a heavy dose of heartbreak.

“See you tomorrow, Nick.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Waterford steps out, shutting the door of the Mercedes. He turns up his collar against the cold wind and walks in the front entrance of Jezebel’s.

 

The elaborate, glittering lie. Oasis of luxury and sin. Because even the commanders can’t stand the puritan hellhole they created. What a fucking joke.

 

Nick pulls around the back of the building and parks, turning the car off. He steps out into the cold night air, automatically pulling out and lighting a cigarette. Takes a few long drags before stamping it out into the wet concrete.

 

He goes to the alley, to the side staff entrance. Walks through the kitchen. Eyes on the ground.

 

He sees Beth in his peripheral vision but keeps his eyes down. In no mood to act normal or make small talk.  He heads quickly for the staff dorm. He closes the door. Puts his gun on the bedside table.

 

He sits on the edge of the twin bed, running his hands over his face.

Takes a deep breath. Clears his mind.

Waiting for answers. Insight.

But the mental block persists.

 

Nick walks to the window, cracks it open. Lights up again and leans on the windowsill. Smoke trailing out into the evening sky. A few minutes later the rush of nicotine does help. It calms his nerves. It feels good. Familiar. _It’s gonna kill me, but fuck it. Something’s gonna kill me. May as well be this._ He thinks of Josh. The fight they had a few days before he died.

 

_Josh was willing to die for heroin._

_I’d never understood that before._

_He knew it would kill him._

_He didn’t care._

_Because it took his pain away._

 

He takes a deep drag, holds it before exhaling. Watching the smoke rise into the darkness.

 

_I was ready to die for June._

_Because she took the pain away._

_It was worth the risk for one more day with her._

_I was ready._

_But it didn’t happen._

_So now what._

 

He stamps out the cigarette on the windowsill, tosses the butt out the window before sliding it shut. 

He turns around. Eyes drawn to his gun.

Something pulls. Deep inside.

The panic eases.

 

_At least there are still options._

_I still have some control._

He shakes his head.

_Not thinking straight._

_Need to get some sleep._

 

He undresses and climbs into bed, back to the door.

Sleep nowhere in sight.

Dark thoughts cycling over and over.

 

His mind had entirely rewired itself around June. Become attuned to her. Thinking of her from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep. Anytime life was quiet, she was there with him. Like a melody playing softly in the background.

 

Those obsessive thought patterns became his new normal. Ingrained. Automatic. He’s painfully aware of it now that she’s gone. His mind still looks for her. All the time. Every chance it gets.

 

Before- he would rearrange whole days just to see her. Bump into her. Hold her gaze, touch her hand- and feel the spark. See that she had been thinking of him too. That the thing he drew his strength from was real and alive. Even if one more stolen moment was all they could ever have.

 

But now she’s gone. Now when he tries to go to her, all he finds is a dead end. Cold and empty. All he can do now is frantically search through memories. But he never finds what he’s looking for.

 

The absence of June is painful. Ugly. But so is the world without her. He’s more acutely conscious of the suffering, the hopelessness now. His brain irritable and over sensitive. The way it feels when you walk into the morning sunlight with a hangover. Now there’s nothing to distract him from his guilt. To obscure this hellscape. _She made it bearable. But now she’s gone._

 

\--------------------------------

 

After her shift, Beth showers. Washing off the sweat and kitchen grease.

 

She stands toweling her hair in the locker room mirror.

 

She lotions her face and legs. Pulls on her grey sweatpants and t-shirt. Glad to be out of the Martha uniform for a few hours.

 

On her way back to the dorm she pauses.

 

She walks to the extra rooms. Where Nick always crashes when he spends the night.

 

She sees a door closed, third on the right. He’s a creature of habit if nothing else.

 

She slips in, locks the door behind her.

 

Beth slips out of her clothes quietly. Walks slowly to the bed. Pulls back the covers, slides in behind Nick, careful not to let cold air in.

 

She waits for a few breaths. Cuddling against his back. Breathing in his warmth. Slides her hand around his waist. Unable to tell if he’s already asleep.

 

A few more minutes pass. Beth takes her chance. Sliding her palm down his stomach slowly.  Nick grabs her wrist, stopping her.

 

“Don’t.”

 

“I missed you.” Speaking with her native French accent.

 

She kisses his back, murmuring “Je veux te faire sentir bien.” (I want to make you feel good).

 

He’s ashamed of how bad he wants it too. Body screaming for human contact. Affection. Dopamine. Endorphins. Warmth. It would feel incredible. He could just drop her wrist. Use her body for comfort. Like all the times before. He misses it too.

 

But something deep - the broken part of his soul- the part that’s in mourning- knows it’ll make it worse.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Nick sits up. After a moment he looks over at Beth.

 

Wrapping a sheet around her chest, she props up on an elbow. “Jesus you look like shit. Are you ok?” She reads the brokenness on his face. Pale. Dark circles. Eyes flat black instead of their usual mischievous warm brown. “Is this about the handmaid that ran?”

 

Nick sighs. Looking at his hands. His answer barely audible. “June. Her name was June.” Hating the past tense. Hating it. Like the first time you talk about someone who died.

 

“Missing her, huh?” Beth nods. “You... really loved her, didn’t you….” Putting pieces together. “...was the baby yours?”

 

He nods.

 

Beth nods understandingly. Trying to find the right words. Finally sighing and shaking her head.

 

“She’s gone, Nick. People don’t come back once they leave, you know that.”

 

He throws back the sheet. Walks to the window.

 

He can’t stop the hot tears from streaming down his face. So he focuses on keeping his face expressionless. Breathing through it. Waiting for the wave to pass.

 

Finally he nods. Swallows.  “I know.”

 

He opens his eyes- looks out at the darkness outside the window. **_She’s not coming back._ **

 

Direct hit. Absolutely devastating. He somehow hadn’t processed that part.

 

Beth allows the silence to linger. Genuinely surprised at this depth of emotion from Nick.  

 

She wraps the sheet around herself, walks behind him, hits his shoulder. Trying to lighten the mood. “Remember our first time? Weren’t you depressed then too?” She’d always reached him with humor before. Sarcasm was their bond. “Emotional mess looks good on you. You must emit a pheromone when you’re sad or something.” Beth says jokingly.

 

He wipes his face on his shoulder as discreetly as possible. “Yeah it was the night Waterford’s first girl killed herself.” _I never knew her name. She died and no one even knew her name._

 

She nods. “You and Handmaids.”

 

He turns and glares at her.

 

Beth holds her hands up. “Geeze sorry. Touchy subject.”

 

Nick turns back to the window.

 

She sits on the bed. Completely lost. No touch, no humor. Not knowing how to navigate him like this. “You gonna leave too?”

 

Nick shrugs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. There’s nothing for me here anymore.”

 

Beth nods. “Just the district? Or the whole shit show?”

 

“I don’t know. She left something behind. Sometimes I think about taking it to her.”

 

“How would you find her?”

 

He sighs again. The ache in his heart re-kindled by this line of questioning.

 

“Her…. husband’s in Canada.” He stops talking abruptly. Clears his throat. Looks at the floor. Blinking rapidly.

 

Beth nods. “She’s married? So even if you found her again...I’m so sorry. That sucks. The whole thing.” Her eyes soften. Energy changing. Touched. She gets up to go. Pulls her clothes on quietly.

 

As she’s leaving, panic grips his chest. He feels the darkness swallowing him again. Suffocating and bottomless. Everyone’s gone. Josh. June. Holly. He has nothing. **_She’s gone, Nick. She’s not coming back._ **He calls out before he has a chance to think.

 

“Hey. Wait.”

 

Beth turns.

 

Nick shakes his head. Battling internally. He doesn’t know what else to say.

 

He pulls on his pants, an undershirt and a black thermal shirt.

 

He attempts sarcasm. “Think you can keep your hands to yourself?”

 

She looks at him questioningly.

 

“Look, I haven’t slept in 3 days. I feel like shit. But I can’t stand being alone. Can you stay?”

 

“You want... to... cuddle?” She smiles despite herself at this adorable request.

 

“If it’s ok with you.”

 

“I don’t know.” She jokes, face mock-serious. “This is all moving a little fast.”  Seeing no response to her humor- just the deep sadness in his eyes, she drops the sarcasm. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

 

He nods with one last masculine sniff. “When’s your shift start?” Nick clears his throat and sets his watch alarm, all business.

 

“4am.” Smiling. Moved by the thoughtfulness and vulnerability. Rare traits in Gilead.

 

Nick fixes the covers. Beth slides in, underneath. Nick lays down on top of the blanket, wraps his arm around her waist. Finally feeling safe.  Like a kid sleeping with the light on. Knowing he shouldn’t need it. Needing it all the same. Body finally sinking into sleep. He mumbles. “Thanks. At least I’ve got one friend left.”

 

Beth smirks suggestively. “Friend with….benefits?”

 

Nick shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

 

She holds her hands up. “Hey. Had to try.” She breathes quietly. Happy to at least be this close to him. She hears soft snoring behind her.  

 

“Nick?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I like you. The offer stands- just for the record.”

 

He nods.

 

“Wake me up if you change your mind.”

 

He shakes his head no.

 

“Just...if you …”

 

“Not another word.”

 

“Fine. Goodnight.”

 

“Night.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to see what Nick would look like without June. If he really thought she was gone forever. 
> 
> To the outside world I bet he wouldn't look any different. Because his feelings were never visible to begin with. 
> 
> I also read an interview with Bruce Miller where he talked about taking season 3 back to Jezebel's. "Because it's a mess, and I like a mess." If Nick was single- he's prime real estate. I predict Beth is gonna make a move. I framed it like the highschool moment where your crush is single but heartbroken. Do you make a move? Play the friend? Help them try to get their ex back because you love them and want them to be happy? 
> 
> Long live the angst.


	4. Hope

 

Nick's watch alarm goes off. His hand is flat on the bed. Beth must have slipped out already. Feels like he’s been asleep for a week.

 

Nick showers and gets dressed. Checks his watch. Only 4:30 am. Waterford’s never up before 9. He heads to the kitchen. Beth spots him and delivers a coffee and a beautifully arranged bowl.

 

She describes her masterpiece like a waiter at a 5 star restaurant. “Overnight oats. It’s steel cut oatmeal- but soaked overnight in sugar and cream. Plumps it up, makes it rich- like rice pudding. Lightly scented with vanilla and cinnamon. Topped with fresh whipped cream and fresh berries. Drizzled with a reduction of brown sugar, bourbon and vanilla. Dusted with powdered sugar.”

 

Nick nods. Impressed.

 

“You make this for everybody?”

 

“Nope. Just the VIPs.”

 

“Who’d you have to kill for fresh berries?”

 

“A magician never reveals her secrets.” She smiles. “Bon Appetit.”

 

He shakes his head with a sigh, almost smiling. Takes a bite. Eyes closing in appreciation. It’s incredible.

 

There are no restaurants anymore. Food this good is rare. His mind flies to the last time he had a meal like this.

 

Eden. She wasn’t a Michelin Star Chef, but she did comfort food perfectly. _Her home fries were just like my grandmother’s. Crisp outside, tender inside. She brightened up my apartment. Made it feel more like a home. So thoughtful, selfless, kind. She would have made someone very happy. She’s dead. Because of me. I should have just fucking protected her. Like a kid sister. Like a friend._

 

He feels sick. Pushes the bowl away. Cant even get to a second bite of breakfast without the darkness creeping in.

 

Sometimes he consoles himself. That he honestly didn’t know how bad it was when he got involved.  They told the guards the handmaids chose to serve. That they considered it a sacred duty. He overheard fragments of conversations. It never sounded violent. Rounded up and impregnated. At a ceremony. The Handmaids came for the ceremony of their own free will. There was no running or fighting or screaming. 

 

It wasn't until he joined the eyes, shortly before meeting June- that he learned the horrific truth. What they did at the Red Center. Why the girls were subservient. Why the rapes were peaceful. Because they’d been tortured into submission. They’d fought back at the Red Center. Punished until they stopped fighting back. Broken. Paraded around as examples of chastity and service.

 

Now he hears June's voice. Loud. Clear. Like she’s there with him.   _Do you know what they did to Ofglen? Do you know because you’re one of them?_

 

“Oatmeal that bad, huh?”

 

 _Damnit. It’s like she has a fucking radar_. He shakes his head apologetically.

 

“Beth it’s so good. You know it’s amazing.”

 

“Damn straight. That was the most popular thing on my brunch menu at the four seasons.”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Hey. Get it together. I’m joking.” She claps him on the shoulder. "Meeting in ten. Back hall. Don’t be late."

 

————----------------------------------

 

Nick leans against the wall. Thoughts angry now. Irritated.

 

 _The fuck am I doing here? This never helped anyone. One bomb in 5 years. Didn’t even get June out. She was so fucking close. I should have just taken her myself_.

 

The relentless self critical monologue continues. And Nick has nothing to say in his defense.

 

The remaining members of Mayday share information. He barely listens. Nothing he doesn’t know already.

 

His ears perk up when he hears concealed excitement in someone’s voice. It’s only ever defeat, death, hopelessness. _What the fuck is there to be excited about?_

 

“We’re going with the poison plan. Next week.”

 

There is a rustle around the room as everyone falls silent and turns to the speaker, peppering them with questions about logistics.

 

“We finally have a volunteer. To do it. Deliver the packets to the Handmaids at the market. Tomorrow at noon.”

 

Nick’s eyes dart to the speaker. Mind silent, full alert.

 

“Former Handmaid. Recently joined. Lawrence vouched for her.”

 

His heart beats out of his chest. _God please let it be her._

 

He lowers his eyes to the floor. Tone casual, expression disinterested. “That’s my neighborhood. I can make sure it goes smoothly. Anyone seen her? What’s she look like?”

 

Blonde. Blue eyes. Medium height. Mid thirties.

 

The floor drops out.

He leans against the wall. Willing himself to stay standing.

Dizzy from the potent mix of low blood sugar, nicotine, insomnia and adrenaline.

_Keep your shit together._

 

The meeting lasts another 15 minutes. He doesn’t hear a word. The small voice at his core filled to the bursting with joy. Like sunshine after endless night. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.

 

Everyone leaves. He stays behind in the empty room, moving to a chair. Mind racing.

 

_She’s ok. She’s not gone._

_But she’s still in danger._

_Putting herself back in fucking danger._

_What the fuck is it with this woman and picking the most difficult path at all times?_

_But she’s not gone._

_Thank God she’s not gone._

 

Beth: “I’m sensing handmaid drama.”

 

He laughs for the first time in weeks.

 

“Were they talking about June?”

 

“Yeah I think it’s her.”

 

Shakes her head, smiling. “Told you. Emo radar. You hungry now?”

 

“Starving.”

 

Come on. “I saved your oatmeal. Let’s get you fed Romeo.”

 


	5. Courrier

**June's POV**

 

June approaches the butcher at All-Flesh. The man who delivered the letters from Jezebel's and smuggled her to Back Bay.

 

“Blessed be the Fruit.”

 

“May the Lord Open.”

 

“I’d like to see your finest cuts, please.”

 

Recognition crosses his face. “They’re in the back, I’ll show you what we have.” Nods toward the store room. June nods before following him into the back. She closes the door behind them, heart pounding.

 

“Basket on the second shelf.” A smile flicks across his face. As it had the other times. “Go in Grace.” He leaves her alone in the store room.

 

The basket is filled with herb packets labeled coriander. There hasn’t been coriander for years. There still isn’t. It’s arsenic. The Martha’s know, they’ll be expecting it. They'll keep it hidden until the time comes.

 

June peeks out of the store room. No guardians visible. Just the women cloaked in red. She slips back into the shop, closing the door behind her. Arsenic packets tucked in her shopping bag.

 

June blows out a slow calming breath. She approaches the Handmaids one by one. Stepping beside them as if looking at the provisions.  

 

She places one packet in each of their shopping bags. “For your Martha.” Each woman looks up at her. So much spoken without words. Recognition. Joy at seeing a sister out of red. Thankfulness. Hope. June nods at each. Proud that she is arming them. _They shouldn’t have given us uniforms if they didn’t want us to be an army_.

 

When the packets are gone she heads for the door.

 

A man in black steps in her path, blocking the way. The harsh static from his radio jolting her from reverie to the cold terrifying moment. Body thick. A soldier made for violence. Light glinting off his automatic weapon. She takes a deep breath to try and slow her racing heart. _Subservient. Act subservient._

 

“Martha. Why are **you** here?”

 

“The handmaid is sssick, sir.”

 

“Who is your commander?”

 

“Commander Lawrence, Sir.”

 

She softens her voice and her face, avoiding eye contact. Smiling sweetly. To make herself non-threatening. Techniques all women learn to survive the violence of men. “Under his eye.”

 

The guard’s eyes narrow, breathing heavily through his open mouth like the predator he is. He looks her up and down like he almost recognizes her. Walks a half circle to let her pass. Boot steps heavy and menacing.

 

Her heart had stopped completely. She forces her frozen muscles to move. June walks quickly through the door. Eyes forward. Barely daring to breathe. Her stomach sick and twisted with adrenaline.

 

Heavy boot steps follow her. Ice grips her chest. Before she can think, hands pull her violently into the alley- one over her nose and mouth, one forcing her forward by the arm.

 

Her mind races. She knows better than to struggle now. But she’ll have to be quick if he lets her go, even for a second. She’ll need to grab any weapon. Fight for her life. If he gets her in the van it’s all over. She’s paralyzed by the realization that she may never see sunlight again. Or Hannah. Or Holly. She decides then. They won’t take her alive. She’ll die fighting. She’ll make him kill her here and now.

 

Her assailant ushers her quickly through the back staff entrance of the store before releasing her.

 

She turns.

 

Nick.

 

His expression shifting from fear and anger to relief in a matter of milliseconds.

 

He hugs her hard. She hugs back. They stand in silence, barely breathing, just nodding. Finally after several long minutes Nick pulls back. Eyes intense, face unreadable.

 

“Well?”

 

“Well what?” June has to will her mind to work. The adrenaline making it difficult.

 

He takes a step toward her. Voice an angry whisper.

 

“You should be in Canada with our baby. What the fuck are you doing?”

 

“Hannah. I can’t leave Hannah. I have to get her out. This is what I’m trading- for their help.”

 

He nods, wiping his hands over his mouth. 

 

“Holly?”

 

“Emily got her to Canada. She’s with Moira now. I got word last week.”

 

He nods, then shakes his head. Clearly trying to decide which of several directions to go with his next words.

 

“Everyone in the district is looking for you. Your picture is up in every guard station.”

 

June pulls back, cringing at the thought.  

 

“They remind us every morning to question people we don’t recognize. That guard? Is going to report seeing someone new at the market. You were two seconds from being taken in for questioning. ” June shrinks further away.

 

“You can’t help Hannah if you’re dead.”

 

She still looks a little shell shocked, but nods.

 

He nods. Glad they agree on that point.

 

“Fred won’t stop. It’s all he talks about. You can’t be out in public.”

 

June gets pissed. Rage rising.

 

“I’m tired of hiding. Waiting to be saved. Like a Disney Princess. I need to do some fucking damage!”

 

Nicks forces a slow exhale. Hands clenching into fists, lips pressing together.

 

 _Another man telling me what I can and can’t do. He thinks he knows better than me._ “What? You don’t think I can fight back?”

 

He gets in her face whisper yelling: “This isn’t fucking Star Wars! The rebels don’t win here. **They die** ”.

 

She nods at the floor.

 

He instantly regrets it, thinking of the scars on her feet. From the time she ran. She knows the consequences of rebellion. He sees the defeat building on her face and it breaks his heart. 

 

“Look. It’s your choice what you do. Not mine. If you want Hannah, we’ll get Hannah.”

 

His eyes plead for her to listen.

 

“But stuff like this.” He gestures around. “Is going to get you caught. Get you killed. I promise you that. It always ends the same.”

 

Her face remains neutral, impassive.

 

He finds a more specific example. “The girl with the bomb. Rachel and Leah center. She did a lot of damage. Yeah? She’s dead”

 

She nods. Hearing him. She has to choose her next move carefully. But it is her choice. Her decisions are her own.

 

“I have to get Hannah. That’s why I stayed. I have to get Hannah out.”

 

His eyes close as he nods deeply. Thankful she's not choosing the most dangerous path, just this once. He paces, thinking quickly.

 

“Can you get to Jezebel’s?”

 

“Yeah. When?”

 

“As soon as you can. I can meet you there in a week. I take Fred every Friday.”

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ask for Beth. Tell her you’re Nick’s friend. She’ll hide you 'til I get there.” He walks closer. Takes her shoulders in his hands again. “Don’t talk to ANYONE. About anything. Ok? Promise me.”

 

They both nod.

 

“We’ve gotta go. Head for Lawrence’s. I’ll tail you.”

 

June’s stomach twists. “What if someone stops me again.”

 

“I’ll be watching.”

 

“But what if...”

 

“ **I’ll handle it.** ” Adrenaline speaking before he has a chance to re-phrase.

 

She smiles. _Ten ways to tell how he feels about you...number five...willing to commit murder in broad daylight._

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ok.”

 

They hold an intense gaze.

 

He pulls her close. Praying this isn’t the last time. Knowing he won’t survive losing her again. Shaking his head to silence the thought.

 

June hears the unspoken feeling. “It’s ok. I’m here.”

 

Her words fit perfectly into the hole in his heart. He nods. It’s exactly what he needed to hear. Eyes closed. Breathing slowing. Muscles relaxing.

 

After another moment he pulls back.

 

“Ok. Let’s go.” 

 


	6. Setting The Trap

 

Nick pauses outside Waterford’s study.

Rehearsing it one more time.

Phrasing and tone will make or break this moment.

 _If he doesn’t buy it, we’re dead_.

 

He knocks.

Fred calls him in and motions him to the desk.

Fred scans Nick’s face. Puts down the file he’s holding and removes his glasses, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Nick, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“I have news. I know where the handmaid is. I know how to get Nichole back.”

 

 

 


	7. Jezebel's

 

 

“Beth”

“Yea.”

“Someone here for you.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know.”

Beth furrows her brow. Annoyed to be called away so close to the dinner rush. _“Je n'ai pas le temps pour ça.” (I don’t have time for this.)_ She wipes her forehead on her sleeve. Drops the pork loin she’s stuffing. Washes her hands with a sigh. Turns down the boiling water, turns off the sauté pan. This better be good.

She rounds the corner to see a woman in a Martha outfit. Mid thirties. Blonde hair. Blue eyes.  _ This must be June.  _ Beth steels herself. Silencing the small voice of jealousy and sadness twisting in her gut. _ No room for softness in this place.  _ She focuses on her poor broken friend.  _ This is for you, my love. _

“I’m looking for Beth.”

She nods with a smile. “You must be June. Come with me.”


	8. Homecoming

 

 **Friday. 8pm**.

****

Waterford unbuckles his seatbelt, combing his hair back, straightening his tie as the car comes to a stop. “See you in the morning, Nick.”

****

“Yes, Sir. Have a good night.”

****

Waterford steps out of the car and shuts the door. Walking into Jezebels'. 

****

Nick pulls around the back of the building and parks. He walks quickly to the staff entrance. He searches the kitchen for Beth- but she’s nowhere to be found. For the first time maybe ever. He stops another chef, desperate for answers. Trying to keep his voice calm, his face blank.

****

“Hey. You seen Beth around?”

 

The chef shakes their head. “Beth took the night off. Are you Nick? She said she left something for you- in your room."

****

Nick nods. “Thanks.” 

****

He heads to the staff dorm, his usual spot, third room on the right.

****

Scanning quickly, he doesn't see anything out of place. He squats, looking under the bed, under the mattress, behind the meager furniture. Nothing.

****

He heads to the window in frustration, pulling out a cigarette.

****

When he pushes the window up -he sees an envelope lying flat in the frame of the windowsill. With his name scrawled on the front.

****

He picks it up franticly, ripping it open, pulling out the paper within. It's a note, with a keycard for upstairs. Beth’s handwriting. _“You, Sir, are nothing if not predictable. Smoking is BAD for you. You should cut back. And stop moping, Romeo. Juliet’s waiting for you. Room 509.” -B"_

****

Flooded with relief, Nick lights up and leans on the windowsill. Thankful for the nicotine's calming effect on his nerves.  

****

_I wonder... if June and Beth talked._   He takes another deep drag, holds it. _Probably not. They’re both pretty quiet._ He shakes his head, blowing the smoke out. _This whole thing is awkward. Someone knowing...what you're going to do....like that first time._

****

The memories flood over him.

****

_That day with Serena. What a fucking nightmare. Horrible. Forced. Unnatural. I shouldn't have... **looked at her**. But she was **so beautiful**. Watching me like it was real- with that **tiny smile that no one else could see**. Just for me. And that was it. Done for. So hard…to not... touch her...kiss her...but she grabbed my arm... **trying to comfort me**. She felt it too. _

****

Nick's eyes press shut as emotions overwhelm him. Like they always do when he thinks of June. Shaking his head. Hand pressed to his forehead.

 

His memories of her always go in the same order. Escalating through their affair. The same slideshow. On repeat. Day in, day out. Precious fragments of happiness he doesn't deserve. Saved, preserved to get him through the dark future that was certain to follow. 

****

_God, the second time. The night she came to my apartment. I should have told her to leave. That it would get us both killed. But I didn’t. I couldn’t move. It felt like we were already bound to our fate. Bound to each other. She stripped_ _off our uniforms. The bullshit roles a heap on the floor. Removing Gilead. Leaving us free. Vulnerable. Equal._

****

He takes another drag, letting it out slowly. Smoke trailing out the window. Flicking ash over the windowsill.

****

_Christ, the Globe. Reclaiming her power. Surrendering it to me._ He shivers with the memory. 

****

_I_ _should grab a shower before I go up._ Nick stamps out the cigarette. Trying to quiet his mind.

 

It doesn’t work. He smiles despite himself, pressing his face into his hands. Anticipation washing over him.

 

 _She’s not gone. T_ ha _nk God. Thank you, God._

****

\-------------------------------------

****

Nick knocks before opening the door of the hotel room. An outdated habit.

****

June stands up from the couch as the door opens. Clearly waiting for him. Overeager. 

****

He swallows.  _Fuck. I should say something._

 

No words come to him. But he feels a pull. Stronger than gravity. He walks to her, slowly. 

****

When they’re a few inches apart **his breath catches as he feels the heat**. A wall of electricity. Like walking toward a furnace. Same as he felt the day he brought her ice. 

 

June's breath catches. She blows out a slow breath to steady herself. **_She feels it too._** He thinks.

****

He’s relieved when she breaks the silence.

 

**“I forget whose turn it is to be on top.”**

****

Nick smirks. Glad to avoid the deeper emotions for now.

 

**“It's my turn. Take off your clothes.”**

****

June smiles back with her eyes as she peels off her black t- shirt. She wiggles her jeans off. 

 

Nick moves closer to help her with her underwear but soon realizes she isn’t wearing any.

 

 _Jesus, June._ He blows out a deep breath- feeling his body respond to her. 

 

She steps closer, unbuckling his belt.

 

Nick slips it off and holds it folded in his hand. **“Get on the bed.”**

****

June finds his eyes. **“...you gonna hit me with that?”**

****

Nick raises an eyebrow, smiling slightly. _Wasn’t planning on it. “_ **You want me to?”**

****

June raises an eyebrow suggestively.

****

Nick shakes his head, smirking with amusement and affection.  **“Hands.”** He says gently.

****

She holds her wrists out, Nick cinches his belt around them, eyes holding hers as he notches the restraint, just tight enough, around his lover's wrists. **“Too tight?”**

****

June shakes her head. Eyes smoldering on his. 

****

**“Lay down.”** He nods to the bed. **“On your back.”**

****

June holds Nick's gaze as she lays down against the pillows sensuously, positioning her arms above her like a pin-up model. Hands on either side of the bedpost. Eyes on his. Breasts heaving. Helpless, awaiting her lover. 

 

Nick has to pause to center himself. To focus. To stop himself from taking her just like this. He closes his eyes and draws a long slow breath before leaning close to June and securing her bound hands to the bedpost. He settles on his side next to her. Trailing his fingertips over her stomach. Noting how quickly she’s breathing already. He stares a little too long.

 

“What?” June asks.   

 

Nick looks at her briefly and smirks with a shrug. “You look good like this.”  He admits.

 

“Like what?” She asks, eyes fluttering shut, breath catching as his fingers trace closer to her core.

 

Nick looks at her incredulously, like the answer should be obvious. “....Naked.”

 

She finds his eyes and rolls hers affectionately, smiling, relaxing a little- into his arms.

****

Nick wraps his strong arm around her shoulders and gently slides his free hand down to her inner thigh.

 

June closes her eyes, relaxing into his familiar touch. Nick watches her face, heart aching to have this beautiful woman under him again. He leans down and kisses her lips softly.

 

His fingers move to her folds, coaxing moisture from her, exploring deeper as her body softens and invites him in. He inserts a finger into her heat, pulsing it slowly. June moans and whimpers encouragements. Nick uses her sounds and movements as a guide, increasing the pace slowly. 

 

Nick inserts a second finger and curls it toward her belly. Searching for the spot that drives her crazy.

 

June’s feet press into the bed with a whimper and she grinds her hips against his hand. Having found his target, he keeps gentle pressure there while his thumb starts small circles over her clit, working her to her first climax.

 

June moans again, louder, then presses her head back with a relieved sigh as her body spasms around his fingers. Her thighs squeeze tight around his hand. Rocking through the aftershocks. She opens her eyes, smiling at her lover.

****

Nick withdraws his fingers from her and moves them to his mouth. He holds her gaze with a smirk as he wraps his lips around the base of his fingers, humming appreciatively as he licks  them clean of her essence.

 

Something deep and primitive twists in June’s belly. Lust. An urgent need to get on top of this man and fuck him into next week. She tries to sit up.

****

“Mm-mm…” Nick scolds, shaking his head. “Not done.”

 

He pulls her hips back down to him. He moves to the center of the bed, positioning himself between her legs, placing her right knee over his shoulder.

****

June realizes what he’s doing. She laughs, cheeks flushing with arousal and embarrassment. Her heart races. She takes a deep breath trying to slow it down.

****

“Nick...you know I love when you do that...”

****

He devours her inner thigh, stroking and squeezing the other with his hand. Previewing his plans for her.

****

June’s voice shakes as she voices her insecurity “...but you don’t... **have** to….”

****

Nick shifts his attention to her other thigh. Ignoring her half hearted protests. ”Relax. You know I could spend hours down here.”

 

June bites her lip. Legs trembling. Body aching with desire for him. Unable to think in words. Completely focused on the delicious feeling between her legs. 

****

He moves to the center of her body, lips brushing against her mound. “I thought I’d lost you.” He whispers, leaning in, warm breath teasing her. 

 

He gently licks her opening- hands squeezing her thighs as he groans appreciatively. 

 

“….June...you... taste ... **so** **fucking good...**.”

****

His words are perfect. Silencing her self consciousness.

 

_He loves this. He wants this._

 

_I want this. I want it so bad I can’t stand it. I want you to eat me out. Make me come with your mouth. Oh God fuck me with your mouth. Take everything._

****

Her internal monologue is interrupted by Nick’s hot tongue stroking her entrance again. She writhes and moans greedily.

 

His cock aches in response to her. Her noises destroy him every time. He could come just listening to her, he’s sure of it. He repositions. Pressing his hips down into the bed for some relief.

****

He kisses her folds gently at first, tongue dipping expertly into her cleft, probing her entrance. Escalating then. All of his pent up desire spilling into feverish movements. Drinking in her desperate sounds.

****

He slides his hands to her hips before beginning phase two. Knowing she’s going to spasm and buck when things heat up.

****

He moves his mouth to her clit, latching on and suckling gently. Pulsing his face into her rhythmically. June’s feet press into the bed, body rigid and silent until stifled cries break from her.

****

He releases the pressure, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue. He alternates between these two methods barely giving her time to breathe between assaults- until she’s in a frenzy, moaning incoherently.

 

He holds her hips as they try to jerk away from the intense pleasure. He squeezes her thighs reassuringly. She stops fighting it- letting her knees fall apart, surrendering to the pleasure.

****

Her climax builds under his unrelenting efforts. When she’s close he uses both strokes at once. Hard suction, flicking faster and faster. A toe curling orgasm wracks through her. Breath held, muscles jerking as her body clamps and spasms in pleasure. Her comedown takes longer this time. She breathes rapidly, eyes closed, knees clamped together, moaning through aftershocks. Nick helps her through it, murmuring reassurances, kissing and stroking her legs until she’s still.

****

June watches from a wordless pleasure fog as he strips off his clothes. He climbs onto the bed, lowering his weight to forearms on either side of her head.

****

June stares up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes dilated. She arches her face up to him, pressing her lips into his. He kisses back slowly. Moaning into her softly as his tongue glides along hers. Savoring their first kiss since the bombing, since their baby was born.  

****

His mouth tastes different. Earthy. Salty and sweet. Like caramel. She realizes- it’s the taste of her. Her nectar. Her erotic juices on his lips. Something snaps. It’s too fucking hot. June breaks her face away, breathes: “ **Hands**.”

****

Nick freezes.

****

She takes a few deep breaths. Steadies her voice. Puts on her best semblance of control.

****

“Give me my hands. It’s my turn. I’m gonna fuck you 'til you can’t walk straight.”

****

Nick smirks at the threat. He unhooks her hands and lays on his back.

****

June straddles him and ties his hands to the bedpost before kissing down his chest and stomach. Her heart melts a little. Something so beautiful about having him at her mercy.

****

She takes him by the base and traces the tip of his shaft lightly with her lips. She repeats this featherlight circular motion, then slips him into her mouth slowly, lips surrounding him with warm heat. He watches with an anxious expression- stomach tensing with her movements.

****

She takes a long slow stroke up him, all suction. His eyes close with a groan as his abs tense.

****

June takes him in her hand. Pumping his erection slowly. She takes one long, slow stroke from base to tip, milking precum from the tip. Eyes on his, she leans down and slowly licks it clean. He exhales hard, brows cinching together.

****

She takes him in her mouth again, slowly sliding her tongue and lips up and down his aching shaft, in a slow steady rhythm. Coaxing loud moans and muffled curses from him.

****

She pulls away and blows cool air across his wet cock. Nick exhales sharply, brows furrowed together, head pressing back hard into the pillow.  “ **Mmmmmm**..... **Fuck**.” His arms pull violently against the restraint, wrists twisting hard for release from the leather. He grinds out his next words between clenched teeth. **“June...Hands.”**

****

June raises an eyebrow and smiles. “….. **USE** my hands? Or is that our safeword now?” She asks teasingly, ignoring him in delicious retribution for earlier.

****

Nick shakes his head, unamused. “Let me up.”

****

“Now... why would I do that? I’m having fun.” Enjoying her power just a moment more. Proud of his growing agitation.

****

June takes her time, leaning forward, squirming her ass against his hips teasingly, dangling her breasts in his face as she unhooks his belt, freeing his hands from the bedpost.

****

She gasps when Nick flips her over roughly. Flat on her back. He kisses her roughly.

 

Pulling back, eyes on hers, his voice is quiet but stern. **"Don’t move.”**

 

June's eyes shine. She loves getting him this worked up. This desperate for her. She watches as he sorts through their pile of clothes, retrieving a condom from his wallet. He tears the foil quickly and rolls the latex down his length. Tossing the wrapper to the floor, he returns to bed, climbing onto the bed, pushing her knees apart, he presses his hips to hers, staying outside her, kissing her aggressively. 

 

They haven’t been alone together since the Globe. 

 

All of their repressed longing and heartache boil over- hairs standing on end, bodies electrified.

 

He breaks a hand free to knead her breast. His breath catches- arousal inflamed by her erotic moaning and writhing beneath him. 

 

Nick whispers feverishly between kisses.

 

“….God ….June.….you feel so fucking good….I missed you...missed you so fucking much...”

 

“I missed you too” June breathes, tears running down her cheek. “I missed you **so much**.”

****

He finds himself sucking on her neck. Hard. Marking her out of some primal instinct. He’d always wanted to, but couldn’t before. **She’s mine. I’m hers.** He moans at the thought and bites down harder. Heart and body aching to connect, merge, fuse with her.

****

June mirrors his desperation, rocking her hips against his. “Nick- please.” Her eyes pleading and desperate. “I’m yours. Take me.” She whispers.

****

He plunges all the way inside with one thrust. June cries out sharply. Nick uses his last shreds of discipline to hold still and let her body adjust to the intrusion.

****

June holds his gaze and smiles lovingly at him.

 

Nick looks away, fisting the sheets with a growl. Trying not to lose it then and there. He bites his lip so hard he tastes blood.

 

June sees this and pulls his face back to hers. She kisses him deeply. Whimpering for more.

 

Their kiss deepens as they start to move together. She kneads his ass as he drives himself into her. Again and again.

****

June presses her mouth to his ear. “Don’t stop Nick. Fuck me hard.”

****

The effect is immediate. He pumps into her savagely. Thrusts deep and desperate.

 

He kisses her neck sensuously to distract himself from the pressure building in his pelvis. Greedily sucking another bruise into her skin. _Oh God June._

****

Forehead pressed to hers, eyes clenched shut, he nuzzles her nose with his. “Don’t hold back...I want to hear you.”  

****

June hooks her heels behind his knees, using the leverage to grind her clit against his pubic bone.

 

The new angle is exquisite, drawing loud tortured moans from both of them. Neither giving a damn if anyone can hear.

****

June goes first - sobbing and clinging to him as her climax wracks through her.

****

Her body grips him, milking him, clenching and releasing his cock, pulling him over the edge with her. He exhales sharply, braces against the headboard and buries his face in her neck. Wincing as his body pulses, empties into the condom. Skin, mind, body one raw searing nerve.

****

They grow still. The room quiet except for their heaving chests. June’s voice breaks the silence.

****

“You ok? You’re shaking.”

****

He opens his eyes. Body trembling from adrenaline and exertion. He nods. With each shaky breath his muscles soften. Tension dropping away. “I’m ok.” Voice deep and husky. “You ok?” She nods and murmurs confirmation, both of them grinning like fools.

****

They kiss, gently now - tender words of devotion on their lips. Whispered prayers of gratitude as they catch their breath. Coming down slowly in the afterglow.

****

_I love you. I missed you. I love you so much. I missed you too. That was so good. How do you do that to me._

****

He gently bites her chin, plants kisses down her jaw. Mouths over the bruises blooming on her neck. Pleased with his marks. Plotting where to leave the next ones.

****

_If there’s a next time._

****

Reality returns to his mind. As it always does.

****

They drop to the pillows, spent. He rolls her body onto his and pulls a blanket up over them. She smiles, eyes shutting sleepily. Purring contentment against his chest.

****

Nick’s fingers trace the muscles of her back. Staring blankly at the wall.

****

“I hate this place.”

****

“Jezebel’s? ….Or Gilead?”

****

“All of it. I wish we could just leave. Get the fuck out of here.”

****

June nods, eyes closed. Slipping quickly into sleep.

****

“He’s got connections in Canada. He could find us. And he’d lock down the border in minutes if he knew you were still here.”

****

June peeks an eye open. “You suck at pillow talk, yaknow that?”

****

Nick finds her eyes with a loving smile. But quickly returns to planning.

****

“Waterford’s gotta go.”

****

“Mmmm.” June murmurs in agreement.

****

Nick nods. “How should we do it?”

****

She looks up, eyebrow raised. Interested at this turn in the conversation.

****

Nick pushes the hair back from June’s face. “Any special requests?”

****

June props up on an elbow, eyes glimmering with conspiracy. “So many choices.”

****

Nick nods. “I know what he would do.”

****

June nods gravely. “It’ll have to be somewhere quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of romance, seduction, trust, consent as continuous things. 
> 
> An approach to love. 
> 
> Fluid, not static. 
> 
> Even in couples that have been together for a long time.
> 
> I like how Nick and June trade power, control, dominance so smoothly. Always centered on each other. 
> 
> Sweet Jesus writers. Hurry and give us Season 3 already.


	9. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and June ready their escape plan.

 

————————————- 

Nick lies awake. Stroking June's back.

Worrying. Unable to relax.

 

_This feels like the ending of that story._

_Wrote a paper on it. Highschool English._

_The man and woman fell in love._

_That was their rebellion._

_At the end they were lying in bed._

_Finally feeling safe. Thinking they’d won._

_But there was no safety. They were fools for imagining it._

_Letting their guard down was a mistake._

_They heard boot steps on the stairs. There was nowhere to run._

_The soldiers found them.They were arrested._

_Tortured until they confessed on each other._

_What the hell was the name of that book?_

_...Big Brother?...no..._ **_1984._ **

_This feels like the ending of 1984._

 

Nick blows out a deep breath.

Closes his eyes and nuzzles into June’s hair.

Focusing on her heartbeat against his chest.

Steady. Calming. Warm. Safe.

 

_We aren’t safe. There is no safety here._

_We won’t be safe until we’re out of Gilead._

 

Nick pauses. Senses on alert. Ears straining into the silence.

 

He hears it again. Heavy footsteps in the hall. Boots.

Unmistakable static from a walkie talkie. Mumbled voices.

Before he can move, they kick the door in.  

 

 

Nick wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. 

Disturbed. Disoriented. Unable to shake the sense of impending doom.

He looks around-finding himself in surroundings eerily identical to the dream seconds before. 

Hotel bed. June snuggled to his chest.

 

He slips out from under June. Pulls on his pants. Un-holsters his gun and clicks the safety off. 

Unlocks the door, checks the hallway. No one there.

He re-locks the door, but feels no better. 

 

Checks his watch. 6 am. He decides to shower quickly before getting dressed.  

 

When Nick returns to the bedroom he stops to watch June sleeping. Curled up on her side. Face relaxed. Peaceful. Still warm in the afterglow of the previous night. The idea of waking her- bringing her back to Gilead-makes his stomach turn. 

 

Looking again at his watch, he sees it's only 6:20 am. He slides back into bed behind her. Slips his arm around her waist. Her warmth, her steady breathing do nothing to calm his nerves. His heart keeps up a rapid pace. Adrenaline like ice in his veins. He’d forgotten this feeling. The constant low grade fear. He wished she'd wake up. She always knew just what to say when he felt like this.

 

June rolls over- her hand falling absently against Nick’s chest. One eyebrow rising as she realizes what she’s touching. Her fingers trace slowly down his stomach, as a smile crosses her lips. Her eyebrows furrow in annoyance when she encounters his pants.

 

“Dressed already?” she mumbles sleepily. “We should make a rule. No clothes on you... **ever**.”

 

June cracks an eye open. Looks at his face. Props up on her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

 

Nick sighs and shakes his head.

 

June tilts his chin up so he has to look at her. He sighs one last time reluctantly. Knowing the refuge was temporary. Illusory. Knowing they can’t stay. “We don’t have much time.”

 

A serious look crosses her face. June nods and heads to the shower.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

They sit on the couch and sort through a bag of supplies on the coffee table. Bottled water, granola bars, apples. Nick pulls out a pair of clippers. “I brought these for the ear tag. I can help.” June smiles. “What... you don’t want to see me gore my ear again?” He smiles. “Exactly.” He brushes her hair back behind her ear, cuts the tag down the middle, then close to the skin on either side. “That’s good enough for now. We’ll get the rest out in Canada.” She locks eyes with him. “Get that fucking thing out or I will.” He swallows. June holds out her hand for the clippers. Nick sighs, shaking his head with a barely detectable eye roll. He cuts the tag flush with her skin. Holds her ear, pulls hard, and puts pressure on the wound. He drops the bloody tag on the coffee table. After a few minutes, when the bleeding has stopped- he pulls out a first aid kit. Cleans her ear with an alcohol pad, earning a hiss. Dresses it with a band-aid and ointment. 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

“Repeat the plan back to me.”

 

June nods. “I stay here today. Don’t open the door for anyone. Tomorrow- 4am- Go to the parking garage. Look for the black van. Ask the driver who he’s looking for. He’ll say Holly. If he doesn’t say Holly go back inside. If he does, I get in the front. He’ll take me to meet up with you.”

 

Nick nods.

 

June asks “Who is this guy?”

 

“Buddy from Michigan. I trust him.”

 

“But he’s an Eye, are you sure?”

 

“Yeah." Nick nods. "We’ve been looking out for each other since we were kids.”

 

They nod. Faces grave.

 

They close the distance between them and hug hard.

 

He shakes his head. “This is the last time I’m letting you out of my sight.”

 

She nods.

 

Nick sinks his face into her neck. Eyes closed. Breathing her smell.

 

June recognizes the gesture of helplessness. “It’s gonna work. It’ll be ok.”

 

He nods. Pulls back. Looks down. _This isn’t goodbye. I’ll see her tomorrow._

 

He turns and heads to the door.  “Lock it as soon as I leave.”

 

—————————————————

9am Saturday morning.  Nick pulls the Mercedes in front of Jezebel's. 

 

Commander Waterford settles into the back seat. 

 

“How’d it go, Nick? Any news?”

 

“Yes, Sir. She’ll be there for at least the next two weeks. Confirmed by two spies we have in the rebel network.”

 

“Praise be. That is wonderful news.”

 

“I can set up a meeting. But we’d need bait. Something to get her to meet us.”

 

“What do you have in mind?”

 

Nick shakes his head.

 

“You can speak freely.”

 

“To be honest, I can’t imagine her coming back. I can’t think of anything she’d value more than her own safety.”

 

Nick watches in the mirror as Fred comes to the realization on his own.

 

“Her child from before. Commander McKenzie’s daughter. Offred told me once she would do anything to see that girl again.”

 

Nick nods deeply. “You might be right, Sir.”

 

“Arrange the meeting, Nick. Say whatever you have to. We’ll need to make it seem like a trade. Her child for ours. Make her think she’ll be safe. I’ll obtain her other child. ”

 

"I'm sorry Sir, how?"

 

"I'll ask McKenzie if we can watch his child for the week. Serena has been so hopeless without Nichole. Some time with a healthy Gilead child would be just the thing to lift her spirits. McKenzie's been longing for time alone with his wife. He mentioned it last week. I'm sure he'll say yes."

 

“But Sir... we can’t give away someone else's child.”

 

“No, Nick. We’ll bring them all back. By force if necessary. You should prepare for that. We’ll return the children to their rightful parents and make sure Offred suffers for her treachery. Let her meet a fitting end for her sinful ways.”

 

Nick nods. “For the wages of sin is death.”

 

Fred nods. “Psalms?”

 

“Romans, Sir.”

 

“Nick you are a true man of God. Thank you again for all you’ve done for this family.”

 

 


	10. Hannah

Nick steps out of the Mercedes, opening the door for Serena behind him. Commander Waterford exits the right side of the car, and climbs the steps to Commander McKenzie’s home. The door opens and they are welcomed inside.

 

The Commanders and wives embrace and chat in the living room. Nick sees a child dressed in pink sitting quietly at the bottom of the stairs. He takes one more glance to make sure Waterford is occupied and heads to her.

 

He kneels down to get on her eye level. “Hey.” “Hey.” She mumbles back. “My name is Nick. Do you remember me?” Hannah nods. He lowers his voice to a whisper only she can hear. “I know your real mom. June. Would you like to see her again?” Hannah nods. Nick nods with a smile. “That’s where we’re going today. We’re going to see your mom. But this time you won’t have to come back.” Hannah clenches her eyes shut. A tear runs down her cheek as she sobs silently. Nick puts his hands on her arms reassuringly. “It’s ok. She’s really excited to see you too.” Hannah finds his eyes and smiles through the tears. Nick nods, looks over his shoulder, and gives her a quick hug before standing and returning to his position by the door.


	11. Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waterford is delivered to his fate- expecting to exchange children with June: Hannah for Holly. 
> 
> June is reunited with her firstborn.

 ---------------------------------------------------------

 

Nick glances at the rearview mirror. Checking on the passengers in the backseat of the Mercedes.

 

_Serena’s out. Sleeping like a baby. The sedatives must have kicked in. Thanks Rita._

 

Hannah’s eyes find his in the mirror. Nick forces a warm smile to reassure her. Her expression remains fixed. Silent terror. She returns her eyes to her lap. Picking absently at her fingertips.

 

Lastly, Nick glances at Waterford- staring out the window. Calm but alert.

 

“Where exactly are we meeting?”

 

“Woods. Half an hour north of town, Sir. She was worried it was a trap so we picked a neutral spot.”

 

Waterford looks pleased. His smile sinister. Like the hunter he is. He strokes his beard. “Who’s bringing her?”

 

“An Eye. He approached her as a Mayday operative. He can transport her back directly in the van for questioning or whatever you have planned, Sir.”

 

Nick’s eyes dart to Hannah. _She’s hearing all of this._ She stares at the floor, unblinking.

 

They pull off the highway, onto a dirt road carving through the tall barren trees. Three miles deep the road widens into an open field. A black van sits at the opposite side of the clearing, facing them.

 

Fred turns to wake Serena but thinks better of it. Better to let her sleep through this first part. _Seeing Offred will only upset her._

 

Nick parks. Turns to Waterford. “I’ll check it out, make sure it’s safe, Sir.”

 

Waterford nods. “Ok Nick.”

 

Nick gets out, walks to the center of the clearing. Turning his coat up against the wind.

 

Simultaneously the door of the van opens. An Eye steps out- uniformed head to toe in black. Trenchcoat, boots, radio, ski-mask, gun all as dark as the van.

 

The two men meet in the center of the clearing and talk briefly. Exchanging a few words, gestures and nods.

 

Waterford cracks the window down an inch but can’t hear anything above the whistling of the biting winter wind through the trees.

 

Nick walks quickly back to the car- speaking to Waterford through the lowered window in a low voice.

 

“The Handmaid is here and willing to trade. But she wants to see her daughter first, as proof.  Before she’ll get out with Nichole.” He watches Waterford’s face for a response.

 

Waterford nods and opens the door. Stepping out into the clearing so Hannah can exit the car.

 

Hannah stands bolt upright. Tense. Shaking like a leaf. Nick closes the car door and puts his hand on Hannah’s shoulder. It does nothing to still her trembling.

 

Across the clearing, June emerges from the black van, dressed in black men’s clothing. Cuddling a bundle of white swaddling blankets close to her chest, rocking it gently.

 

Hannah jerks toward her mother instinctively. Nick squeezes reassuringly. _If I took my hand off her shoulder she’d bolt. Smart kid._

 

Nick turns to Waterford. “I’ll walk the girl over. Bring Nichole back. Ok? Once the baby is safe in the car with you- we’ll secure the handmaid and the girl."

 

Waterford nods. “If she tries anything, shoot her.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Nick nudges Hannah. “It’s ok. Let’s go.”

 

Hannah walks straight for June, who transfers the bundle to Nick and drops to her knees, hugging Hannah tight. Rocking her deeply. Hannah urgently whispers something in her ear. June nods. Whispering back before ushering Hannah to the van.

 

Nick adjusts the bundle in his arms. Pausing to pull back the blanket and smile slightly at the little miracle in his arms. He tucks it closer to his chest protectively, trying to shield it from the cold wind, and walks back to the Mercedes.

 

Nick pauses a few steps from the car and looks at Waterford reluctantly.

 

Waterford gets in the car and reaches to receive the child. Irritation growing with every passing second. Nick sighs and transfers his cargo to commander Waterford’s outstretched arms. Waterford settles back, relieved.

 

 **As Waterford pulls back the swaddling blanket** , eager for his own moment of bonding and relief, **he feels a sharp pinch in his neck.** His eyes blur. His eyelids grow impossibly heavy. He feels intensely tired, dizzy, weak. His arms lose their strength, going dead, too weak even to hold the precious item in his arms, he drops the blankets- they fall apart on his lap. The last thing he sees...as everything goes black… **there is no baby. The blankets were empty.**

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hannah rushes to June’s arms, but pulls back immediately- whispering in June’s ear frantically.

 

“It’s a trap. They’re gonna take you back.”

 

June nods. “Smart girl. You’re right. It is a trap. But the trap isn’t for us.”

 

Hannah looks unconvinced. Worried her mother is being naive. Hannah holds out her pink mitten-  dropping something cold into June’s hand. “We can use this if we have to.” June looks down at a small knife in her palm.  

 

Conflicting emotions sweep over June. Fierce pride. Deep love. Memories of their shared trauma. The first time they were separated. Five years ago. In these same woods. If only she’d had a knife then. If only Hannah had been older. They could have fought back. Guilt. Rage. June has to push it down. It’s too intense. She takes a slow calming breath. Knowing she will have the rest of her life to dig through that wreckage. She nods at the resolve on her daughter’s face. Seeing her own fear and courage reflected right back at her.

 

June nods. “Thanks. We may need this. No matter what happens, we’ll be together. No one’s ever going to separate us again. I promise.”

 

Hannah nods. Shoulders relaxing slightly. June kisses her forehead. “Come on. Let’s get warm.”

 

They slide into the front of the van, thankful to be out of the blistering wind.

 

Hannah looks at June. “Nick’s nice.”

 

June nods. “He’s a good person. I trust him.”

 

“It’s dangerous for him to help us.”

 

June nods.

 

Hannah pauses briefly before the next question. Voice quiet, without judgement. “Is he your boyfriend?”

 

June shakes her head slightly. “I don’t know. Something like that.”

 

“Does dad know?”

 

June shakes her head. Jaw aching as she steadies her expression to keep it neutral, honest. Knowing she needs to be open with her child.

 

This conversation has to happen sooner or later. Maybe it’s better to start it now. Hannah understands how bad it was. How lonely. She also had her family stripped from her. She had to start over. Survive.

 

“I haven’t seen your dad at all since the last time we were together. I miss him so much. I hope we get to see him tomorrow.”

 

“Me too.” Hannah nods. “It’s ok. I’m glad you have a friend.”

 

June nods. “Did you have any friends?”

 

Hannah shakes her head. Lip trembling. A single tear escapes, falling down her cheek. “My Martha...was nice to me sometimes....”

 

Hannah’s face crumples. She hides her face in her hands and sobs brokenly. June knows this is likely the first time Hannah has felt safe expressing emotion since they were separated.

 

June gathers her up, onto her lap, like she did when Hannah had nightmares as a little girl. Rocking her. Wanting so badly to tell her it was all just a bad dream. That the monsters weren’t real.

 

“Shhhh.. Its ok baby. It’s over. It’s all over. You did so good. I’ve got you. Mama’s got you. It’s ok. Mama’s here.”

 

She hears Hannah’s voice- choked- teeth chattering.

 

**“You didn’t...really... give them the baby, did you?”**

 

June pulls back, horrified at herself for not clarifying that sooner. Of course Hannah didn’t know! It was supposed to look realistic. _My God what does she think of me._ She locks eyes with Hannah, both hands cupping her face. Shaking her head firmly as she speaks. Urgently needing Hannah to understand what just happened.

 

“Hannah, look at me. I would **never** give them your sister. I’ve never **given** those bastards anything.”

 

Her voice falters and she grits her teeth to get through the next part. Too painful to even think much less speak.

 

“They **took** you from me. They **took** my baby. But I got her back. I got her out. She’s safe in Canada with Moira. Do you remember Miss Moira?” Hannah nods.

 

June nods. “Now I’m getting **us** out. You and me. And once we’re out I’ll introduce you to her. Your baby sister. Her name is Holly.”

 

Hannah sniffs. Nodding. “Like Grandma Holly?”

 

June smiles, wiping Hannah’s tears with her thumbs. “Yes. I named her after Grandma Holly.”

 

“Grandma was a badass. She’d be proud of you mama.”

 

June nods. Tears pricking her eyes. “Yeah. She would.”

 


	12. View From The Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred Waterford's POV
> 
> Awakening to Nick and June's plan for revenge.

 -------------------------------------------------

 

Cold. Stiff. Sore. Like swimming through fog.

Waterford forces his eyes open. Heavy. Weighted. He tries to take in as much information as he can, forcing his eyes to focus.

Blue sky. Winter trees. Moving, bending in the wind. He can’t feel the wind. Something is protecting him from it.

The sky is just a square. Surrounded on all sides by black. Like a picture frame. Or movie screen. A rectangle of blue sky. Three feet by six feet.

He smells dirt. Dirt all around him. This is a hole. Or a pit. About six feet deep.

His jaw aches- something in his mouth. Unable to get his tongue on either side of it. He inventories his body quickly, panic gripping him. Hands bound behind him. Ankles bound. Sharp rods beneath him. Thorns? He rolls his shoulders. He hears crunching. Cracking of sticks. Firewood.

Voices above. Two male voices.

“Damn he’s out. What’d you use?”

“My usual. Wears off in 30 minutes.”

“You bring the supplies?”

“Yup. As requested. Should have everything you need.” 


	13. Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is executed.
> 
> So is Fred.

\------------------------------------------------

 

Nick and his friend back the vehicles up to each other so they can swap the sleeping passengers.

 

June scoops Hannah up gently, transferring her to the back seat of the Mercedes as The Eye picks Serena up, throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her to the back of the black van. “All right sweetheart. Next stop: colonies.”  He closes the door of the van.

 

Nick shakes hands with his friend. “Thanks for everything.” Claps him on the arm and nods.

 

“Of course. Wish I could do more.” The Eye turns to June, nodding towards Nick. “Take care of him. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

 

June smirks. “That’s gonna be hard. No guarantees.”

 

Nick and June watch as the van departs. Leaving the clearing quiet. Just the hum of the car engine, the whistling wind colder now with daylight fading.

 

Nick gestures at Hannah, sleeping peacefully on the backseat of the car. “She ok?”

 

June nods. “Out like a light. She sleeps hard.”

 

Nick swallows. “We don’t have to do this. We could drive him to Canada. Give him to the authorities as a war criminal. Let them handle it.”

 

June considers this. “No. I need to do it. If they let him go, I’d never forgive myself.”

 

Nick nods. They step to the side of the grave. Looking down at their captive.

 

Fred struggles against his restraints, slurring around the gag. “What is this?”

 

“Karma, Fred.” June pulls out a small pocket bible. Turns to the first bookmark. The action of reading to this man makes her almost dizzy with pride.

 

“Exodus 21:23-25 states: _But if there is harm, then you shall pay life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe."_

 

She looks down at Fred to make sure he heard her. He sneers at the eye contact and wriggles frantically against his restraints. June flips to her second chosen passage.

 

Leviticus 24:19-21 echoes this assertion, _"Anyone who injures their neighbor is to be injured in the same manner: fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. The one who has inflicted the injury must suffer the same injury."_

 

She closes the Bible and slips it back in her pocket _._

 

“You owe me and my friends a lot of body parts, Fred.”

 

He shakes his head and shouts something unintelligible. June continues over him.

 

“Burns. Scars. An eye for Janine’s eye. A finger for Serena’s finger. You don’t have a clit but we can remove something similar for Emily. How far back should I go? How many people have you maimed, tortured and killed? How many of those debts do you pay today?”

 

June pauses. She steps away from the graveside. Sickened. She sits, back to the grave and closes her eyes. Tuning in to the small pleading voice at her core. Her knowledge that hurting someone for pleasure would be wrong. She listens to the feeling. Allowing it. She’s actually relieved they didn’t kill that part of her. That her conscience survived all the darkness they put her through.

 

Nick’s eyes hold hers. Narrowed. “What do you want to do?”

 

“I want to get this over with. Quick.”

 

Nick nods. Leaving to retrieve what June is asking for.

 

He hands her a pair of black leather gloves. She slips them on before taking a can of gasoline from Nick.

 

She steps to the grave side. Tilts the gas can, emptying the acrid liquid into the grave. Careful not to get any on the leaves at her feet. When the can is empty, she hands it back to Nick, along with the gloves. He walks the gas soaked items a good distance into the woods. When he returns, Nick steps beside June, lighting a cigarette- cupping his hands around his face to block the wind. Once it’s lit, he looks down at Waterford.

 

“I know you like scripture, Fred. Here’s one to take with you to hell. Revelation 21:8. ‘... _But the cowardly, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, the idolators and all liars, they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur_.’ They’re talking about people like you. Figured we’d give you a head start with the flames.”

 

Nick takes one last drag off his cigarette, handing it to June. She takes a drag and tosses it into the grave.

 

The muffled screams only last a minute. It sounds horrible. June wonders if that’s what she sounded like. When Lydia scourged her feet. When she begged Fred not to rape her. When the Eyes pulled Hannah from her arms five years ago. She tries to put those memories in the grave with Fred. To let the screams be hers. To let the fire burn the memories away.  

 

Nick and June sit on the frozen ground and watch the pyre burn down to ash.

They sit in silence like this for half an hour.

Unable to look away.

There’s no pleasure in it.

When the fire dies out, they look at eachother and nod solemnly.

They rise and fill in the grave in silence.

Shoveling in tandem.

They smooth the surface and scatter dead leaves over it.

Blending Fred Waterford’s final resting place back into the forest floor.

Leaving no marker.

No trace of him.

 


	14. Crossing

 

June returns to the car, settles in the passenger seat. Staring blankly out the window. Twilight falling. The images and sounds burned into her mind. She wonders how many other bodies are buried in these woods. How many innocents. How many monsters.  

 

She and Nick share a dinner of granola bars, apples and bottled water. Darkness has fallen by the time they finish.

 

Nick reviews the plan out loud. Trying unsuccessfully to ease the nervous voice in his mind urging him to leave now. Cross now. Dark or not. _There is no safety in Gilead. Waiting is always the wrong choice._

 

“We’ll cross as soon as it’s light. It’s only a few miles. They’ll be waiting for us in the morning. I called ahead. They already have a van at the border. They’ll take us to the embassy. I told them to contact Luke, Moira, Emily. They might already be waiting for us.”

 

June nods. Yawning sleepily. Leaning the seat back and turning to her left side.

 

Nick continues talking. Sleep nowhere in sight. “When you’re out, you should write it down. All of it. Everything that happened. We need to get the stories out. I saw how it made a difference. The letters from Jezebel’s.”

 

June doesn’t answer. She reaches into the back, pushing the curls back from Hannah’s sleeping face.

 

Nick’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

 

June sits upright. “What?”

 

“Someone’s here.”

 

She hears the whine of an engine drawing closer. Headlights move across the clearing. Across their car. Nick leans across her, pulling a second gun from the glovebox. Sliding a clip inside.

 

“How?”

 

“I don’t know.” He pulls another from under the front seat.

 

“What do we do?”

 

“You take Hannah and run.” _I’m getting you out. If it’s the last thing I do_ . _We should have gone the rest of the way_ . _We shouldn’t have rested._

 

She shakes her head firmly.

 

“Yes.” Hands her a gun. “It’s loaded.”

 

June is glad for it. The options it gives her. Knowing this time they won’t take her alive.

 

“Find Holly. If anything happens, tell her about me. Tell her I love her.” His eyes linger on June’s.  

 

“What about you?”

 

“I’ll be fine. Go.” He steps out, closing the door, gun in his hand, slipping into the shadows.

 

_He’s lying. He’s saying goodbye._

 

June hears yelling. A single gunshot jolts her to movement.

 

June grabs Hannah, pulls her into her arms, and out of the car, running into the darkness.

 

Six more gunshots.

 

Hannah’s even heavier than she used to be. June ducks behind the first large tree she finds, setting Hannah down. Sucking in breath as quietly as she can. _Fuck. It’s happening again. This was my destiny. I just delayed the inevitable._ She shakes her head violently against that thought. _I’m not going back this time. It doesn’t end like this._

 

The shouting has turned to silence. Deafening silence. Then she hears the worst sound possible. The one that still haunts her dreams. She hears footsteps approaching her tree. Boots crunching on dead leaves and twigs.

 

She freezes in place. Body rigid with adrenaline. She tries to focus on her hands. On the gun. Willing her cold fingers to do what they will need to as her guts wrench with dread.  

 

“June, we’ve gotta go. Just a mile to the….” Nick exhales sharply.

 

“Nick!?” She almost shouts with relief. “Jesus you scared me. You ok?”

 

“They’re gone. Go. I’m right behind you.”

 

They make their way through the woods in silence. Eyes adjusting to the darkness. Once they cross the border, into the clearing, they see cars waiting. Luke steps out of one of the cars.  

 

The first part is like fireworks. Short shouts. Single words exploding.

 

June!!

 

HANNAH!

 

Hannah runs to him. “Daddy!” Luke hugs Hannah, tears running down his face. He looks at June, nods as she walks towards him.

 

Luke puts Hannah down. Face serious falling to a mask of concern, calls over his shoulder. **“We need an ambulance!”**

 

Luke dashes to June, briefly putting his hands on June’s shoulders. “I’ll be back.” He turns and runs toward the woods.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Nick is sitting on the ground, near the tree line. Working to peel back his coat and shirt- gripping his side.

 

Everything is black and white. Black sky. Bright light from the full moon. White skin, oozing black liquid between pale fingers. Black dots dripping onto the leaves below.  

 

Luke stoops down, puts Nick’s arm over his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. You don’t look good. Let’s get you up.”

 

Luke hoists Nick up, the movement setting off a round of wincing and coughing blood.

 

“Hey. I’ve got you. Look at me. It’s gonna be ok.”

 

Nick shakes his head. Staring at blood on his hands. Tired. So tired. Weaker with every step. Eyelids heavy.

 

June watches from across the field. She can’t think. Or feel. She can’t even move. All she can do is watch.

 

Time slows down. The way it does when babies are born- or you meet your true love or say goodbye for the last time. Senses heightened.

 

 _Please, God not like this_.

 


	15. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angsty conclusion!!

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

June and Hannah are held in government custody for several days for processing and debriefing. Once released she calls the local hospitals, tracking down Nick's location. Relieved to hear he's ok. She drops Hannah off with Moira and goes to the hospital to visit Nick. The ward clerk informs her he’s outside getting some air. She walks the perimeter of the hospital. Finds him sitting outside on a bench.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Hey.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He pulls up the sleeve of the hospital gown- showing her his nicotine patch. “Wishing I had a lighter so I could roll this up and smoke it. Might work better that way.”

 

She smiles, sitting down next to him. He avoids her eyes. Expression sad. Distant. Like he’s resigned to something. He asks about Hannah.

 

“She’s ok, she’s with Moria. That’s where we’re staying.”

 

Nick nods. Face solemn.

 

June is confused by his response. Thinking he’d be happier to hear that she chose Moira’s place over Luke’s. She continues hopefully. “You can stay at Moira’s too when you’re better. She already said there’s plenty of room.”

 

Nick doesn’t respond. Eyes fixed stubbornly on the ground. Face blank, expressionless.

 

_This is the part I never wanted to think about. I never thought we’d make it out. We don’t get a happy ending. I’ve always known that. From the first time I saw you._

 

June narrows her eyes. “What? What is it?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Come home with me.”

 

Nick shakes his head.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I just keep thinking….It would have been better for everyone….if this had gone differently.”

 

June stares back, brows knitting together. “If... **what** had gone differently?”

 

“If I wasn’t here.”

 

She stares blankly. He continues.

 

“When I met Luke before...I saw the way he... You’re everything to him. He cried when I told him you were pregnant. I hated myself for being the cause of his pain.”

 

June shakes her head. “What are you doing? Are you breaking up with me?”

 

Nick says nothing, staring at the ground. Heart aching.

 

June: “What are you gonna do?”

 

“Go to the embassy. Figure something out. The social worker gave me their number.”

 

“I don’t understand. Help me understand what you’re saying.” _So I can talk you out of whatever stupid plan you have._

 

Nick considers his words. Deciding, for the first time maybe ever- to say exactly what he’s thinking.

 

“The only time I feel right is when you’re with me. Just me. In my arms. My bed. I can’t watch you live with another man. Not again. I can’t fucking do it.”

 

He instantly regrets how it sounds. It sounds shitty, immature and jealous.

 

June feels sick with anger. “...I wasn’t ...LIVING with Waterford. I was his PRISONER!! I had no choice! You know that!!!”

 

Nick nods. Wishing he could take it back. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

 

June: “Listen, things between me and Luke are complicated. You can understand that, right?”

 

Nick nods. “Luke’s a **good** man. He loves you. You have a child together. You’re **family**. You deserve that. He deserves that.”

 

June shoves Nick’s shoulder to punctuate her next words. “ **You’re** a good man. **We** have a child together. **We** could start over. **We** could be a real family.” Referencing his dream for them.

 

“Things aren’t that simple anymore.” He says quietly. “You’re married. We’re back in a world where that means something. I don’t want to be responsible for any more pain. I want you...your family...to be able to move on. Go back to normal. That’s what you wanted. That was always the plan.”

 

June shakes her head in disbelief. “You think you’re the only one hurting? How fucking selfish are you?” Hitting him harder, this time with fists.

 

June shouts. “ **I’m** hurting. **Holly’s** hurting. I thought you might be **dead**. Do you know what that feels like?”

 

“ **Yes** I know what it feels like.” He shouts. “I thought I’d never see you again. I had **NOTHING**!”

 

He puts his head in his hands. Not sure how this went so far sideways so quickly. But glad they’ve gotten the hurt out. Even if they’re no closer to a solution.

 

June nods. Unable to think of anything to say. She shakes her head, clenching her eyes shut. She sits on the ground. Puts her head in her hands and rocks back and forth, sobbing brokenly.

 

 _Shit._ Nick moves from the bench to the ground next to her. Kneeling down, he gingerly wraps his arms around her. Ignoring the burning in his side. Rocking her. Pressing his lips into her hair. “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s ok.”

 

June wraps her arms around his chest, hugging Nick tight. He winces and lets out a sharp hiss.

 

“Shit. Sorry.” She adjusts her arms to his waist.

 

They stay like that. Bodies sharing the warmth, comfort they need. Thankful for the hiatus from words. Hating the clumsiness of language.

 

Nick pulls back. “I don’t know what to say. I‘m so sorry.”

 

She nods. “Neither do I. You’re right. It’s a fucking mess.”

 

They nod.

 

Nick looks down again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. We don’t get a happy ending. I always knew that. I knew what I was getting into.”

 

June nods. Acknowledging what he’s saying. The feeling he’s trying to express to her. The fatalism she lived by too. Never daring to hope for more.

 

“It’s ok to be wrong sometimes.” She looks at Nick. Face softening. “This is real. We got out. We can start over. This is just the beginning.”

 

She takes his face in her hands, moving his eyes to hers. Making sure he hears the next part.

 

“I can’t live without you. I can’t do it. I **won’t** do it. Do you hear me? I didn’t survive all of that just to pretend it didn’t happen.”

 

Nick winces. Eyes shimmering.

 

June pulls away and slips a index card into his hand.

 

“Moira’s address. When you’re ready.”

 

She leaves her hand on his. Thumb stroking the back of his hand.

 

“I don’t know what happens next. But you’re part of it. **There is no future for me without you**.”

 

Nick pulls her into a hard hug. Nodding against her.

 

Letting her words sink deep. Filling all of the broken parts of his heart. He exhales. Releasing the past. Surrendering control of the future. Letting the world outside his arms fade away. He breathes in. Knowing this one moment with her is enough. It’s always been enough. One more touch. One more day with her.

 

“Me too” he whispers.

 

 _T_ _here’s no future for me without you_ . _Put that on my fucking tombstone_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this story! I really enjoyed this one. I hope you did. Please let me know what you thought!
> 
> This is my new username! Dystopian_dramaqueen. (Formerly crollah). Gonna leave them attached for about a month, then delete the old one. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! 
> 
> Blessed be the fight.


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